Essence of Life
Life is nothing but an incoherent poem
A murky dream inundated with enigma
A fragmented puzzle of countless bits
Crystals of darkness, elusive slivers of light
Bestowed upon us at birth
Not a choice of ours
We interrupt this dream,
An infinite number of times
In the haze of awakening
Desperately, we strive
To piece it together, and make sense of it all.
Alas
When we have it all figured out,
Suddenly, we realize
None of the pieces
Have fallen where they belonged
Then we despise our awakening
Wish we’d never entered this farce.
Real Me
I was either missing or kidnapped from the maternity ward of a hospital right after birth, of course, that’s one theory. The other speculation is that I’d died as an infant due to medical error while my mother and I were still under the care of the hospital. Real Me
Vincent and Franz
Vincent and Franz were my neighbors when I was young
Both lived in dark corner houses, the end
Of our dead-end alley invisible to the naked eye.
Where was this neighborhood?
Many asked me all along.
And the ones who knew where I was from
Didn’t believe a word of mine. Vincent and Franz
As I do every night, I took just a sip of water before I talked myself in the bed. If I drink more, I wake up in the middle of the night for a trip to the bathroom and face another tormenting insomnia afterward. I’ve learned by experience that water at night epitomizes shattered dreams and painful awakenings. That night just before closing my eyes, once again I glanced at the image of myself victoriously parading my prized catch dangling from the fishing line wrapped around my wrist. Fortunately, that delightful moment was captured and framed hanging on the wall above my bed for years. Hook